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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24228622">insert cute n quirky world-relative name implying collection of short stories here</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunwhiskers/pseuds/Sunwhiskers'>Sunwhiskers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabbles, Gen, Short, Vignettes, please dont actually ill be very sad, prompts, the many deaths of Optimus Prime, whaddya gonna do shame me?, yeah there's ocxcanon shipping in here</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 06:41:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,045</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24228622</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunwhiskers/pseuds/Sunwhiskers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>[working title if that wasn't clear pff]</p><p>This is an ongoing collection of drabbles, vignettes, and otherwise short fics for the Transformers universe. All are character-focused and usually introspective. Mainly canon pieces but does also include some OC fun.</p><p>Updates are whenever my brain deigns to grant me with some inspiration and the words to put it into.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sunstreaker (Transformers)/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. patient 10.6.16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks for clickin', even if you lose interest and don't read all the way through. For some context, the notes in the beginning of each chapter will include what the prompt was, if there was one, and the title of each one will be the date created and the title. Date format is mm/dd/yy, and I'm gonna try to upload these chronologically. Sorry for some poor writing in a few of them; most of these function as exercises or for me to just spit some words out on the paper between long dry spells, and the first few are from about four years ago now anyway.<br/>also please dont make fun of my oc guys shes really special and cool and not lame at all guys shes the coolest oc she turns into a fast car guys dont make fun guys</p><p>And a final note: PLEASE FEEL FREE TO CRITIQUE! I am always looking to improve my skills and value all constructive criticism &lt;3</p><p> </p><p>For these first few chapters, I pulled the prompts from some dialogue prompt list that is now gone to the winds of time. The one picked for this piece was "I've been waiting a long time for you."</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>  She was a patient bot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  She could sit through hours of uninteresting lectures and political discussions. She could wait for someone who showed up a few hours late because of traffic. She could wait outside her higher up’s door for hours, cycles, even, at a time, keeping her rigid guard’s position all the meanwhile. She could wait for the medbay to empty so she could get a touchy wound or faulty system repaired.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  She could wait for orns for her warrior to return.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  She </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> waited orns, in fact; near a full vorn had passed before she had heard any confirmed news, and here she was, standing in an at-ease stance despite there being no ease in her whatsoever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  She was the only bot there who didn’t have a specific purpose in assisting the landing of the shuttle. Several maintenance bots--most of whom she recognized--and heavy lifters were carting around machinery and fuel, rushing to and fro around her. The shuttle itself was gleaming golden in the sun, and as its landing gear touched down, she felt the heavy vibrations as its thrusters and travel systems began to power down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  The loading ramp was directly facing her. She didn’t move. She was patient. She could wait.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  A hiss of vapor escaped the airlock as the seal was broken and the earth’s atmosphere rushed in. Her spark chamber was humming with the eager frequency her spark was giving off; the pleasantly numbing sensation was sending pinpricks of energy down her structure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  The loading ramp hadn’t quite finished its descent when a golden figure came vaulting over it, hands gripping the edges tightly as pedes swung effortlessly over the metal panel and thudded heavily on the ground. Her throat tightened and her arms fell to her sides.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  They locked gazes instantly. The broadest smile, her favorite smile, broke out on his face, and a murmur of what she knew was her name crossed his mouth as he broke into a brisk pace towards her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  She was a patient bot. She could wait through lectures, for friends, outside doors, and in her quarters with a skimpy medkit. She could wait eternities.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  She chose not to wait as she leaped off the ground and propelled herself directly at him, letting out a bubbled cry of his name as she pressed herself up against him. He caught her easily and tucked her weight against his chassis, anchoring his pedes against the earth and burying his nose into the crook of her neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  For a few moments she couldn’t speak, rendered unable by the frantic joy coursing through her spark. A moment of closeness soothed her enough to force out a sentence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “I’ve been waiting a long time for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  His grip tightened, then withdrew as he pulled back to meet her gaze with vibrant optics. A hand tilted gently against her chin as he stared at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “I know,” came the whisper. “I was waiting too.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. timing 10.12.16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Prompt for this one is "He couldn't have died at a worse time."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Taptaptap. Tap. Taptap. Taptaptap.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Prowl looked up at the sound. The quiet </span>
  <em>
    <span>tink</span>
  </em>
  <span> of metal tapping metal was loud in the vacancy of the shuttle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  The Datsun was tapping his digit away at the navigational console in the far left corner of the room. The air in the dimly-lit bridge was stale, and it was irritatingly thick for Prowl’s sensors.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Smokescreen?” he questioned, rising slightly from his chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Said bot didn’t respond at first, his optics studying the edges of the panel his digits were trailing. The interior was the same shade of golden-orange that the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ark</span>
  </em>
  <span> was, and it brought back memories neither of them wanted to discuss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “He needs to figure himself out and get back up here,” came Smokescreen’s muttered reply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Prowl stared at him blankly, unsure whether to take him seriously. “Smokescreen, I...that’s not...death doesn’t work that way. He’s in the Well, with Primus.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Smokescreen’s digits curled into a fist and he slammed it onto the console’s screen. The sturdy material vibrated visibly, but didn’t shatter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “Haven’t you noticed that just isn’t Prime’s style?” the Datsun snapped back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  Prowl raised an optic ridge at him, silently prompting him to continue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  With an air of frustration, Smokescreen continued through gritted denta. “Haven’t you ever noticed that if Prime’s mission isn’t finished, he doesn’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>die</span>
  </em>
  <span>? If he thinks there’s more to be done, then he returns to finish the job, slaggit. It’s only a matter of </span>
  <em>
    <span>when</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>how.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  His fist loosened, and a shuddering sigh expelled from his vents.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>  “He just...he couldn’t have died at a worse time.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. moments 10.12.16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Prompt for this one is "I miss moments like these more than anything."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>  The clink of the two cubes striking was small, nearly lost in the echoing laughter and music that was draped over the Rec Room like a welcome blanket. With a grin and a cheery nod Mirage raised his to his lips, helm tilting slightly to accommodate the energon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Tracks moved in kind, friendly competition forgotten as the taste of high grade washed down his intakes. Such frivolities were a rarity now, and he wasn’t going to waste it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Their cubes were drained within moments, and Mirage laughed as he wiped his mouth, catching the small trail of energon that had been dripping down his chin. “It’s been too long, eh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Most certainly,” Tracks agreed, raising his now-empty cube.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Holidays were few and far between on earth. With constant Decepticon resistance and frequent meetings with human representatives, downtime was scarce, and tonight, with an unheard of ceasefire called between the two sides, the Autobots were taking their time to enjoy it. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ark</span>
  </em>
  <span> had been decorated with genuine Cybertron lights, the colorful strands lacing the walls and doorways. Their prized stash of high grade had been broken into, and the twins had contributed in their own way by concocting a large batch of their special brew. Their chosen server of the night was Beachcomber of all bots, and both autobots looked on in amusement as the peaceful bot smiled and handed out the wrong type of high grade to a flustered Bluestreak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Mirage fiddled with the edges of his cube, watching as Bluestreak tried to explain his issue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “I miss moments like this more than anything,” he said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Tracks’ cheery demeanor dipped for a moment as he considered his fellow’s words. Truly their time here on earth was no leisurely vacation. Their presence here was entirely an accident to begin with, and the only reason they remained now was because the Decepticons could not be allowed to take control of an entire planet--much less one inhabited by sentient life and filled with rich resources. The good days of Cybertron had passed even before their arrival, and while his memory banks gave him clear data, much of it was of battle strategies and techniques. There was little to celebrate, so it often seemed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  A small movement caught Mirage’s optic. He looked down as he suddenly registered that his cube was no longer in his hands, and turned to find Tracks smirking as the corvette brandished their empty cubes in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Then we’d better make it last.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. youth 10.12.16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Prompt for this one is "I've forgotten what it's like to feel young."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>  “They really don’t care who’s watchin’, do they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Ratchet glanced up in mild curiosity and followed Ironhide’s gaze across the Rec Room to where the twins sat at a table with Hyperlight and Starsurge. Hyperlight had her face buried in her servos, and Starsurge was laughing uncontrollably as Sideswipe struggled to escape the headlock she had him in. Sunstreaker was smirking complacently while leaning back in his chair. Without context the situation looked a little absurd, and Ratchet glanced towards Ironhide questioningly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “What d’ya mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  With a small grunt the aged warrior shifted his position, the cube in his hands tilting slightly as he did so. “Look at ‘em, laughin’ ‘mselves silly over some little snippet o’ life. They just don’t get how real this war is. If any one of ‘em were to be sent off the Well tomorrow, they’d never recover.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Ratchet was silent, sensing the magnitude of the older bot’s statement. As he watched, Sideswipe managed to wriggle out of his captor’s hold, and he promptly flipped the femme over his head and onto the floor with a triumphant shout. A habitual scowl darkened the medic’s face as he noted the small dents littering the frontliner’s chassis. Those would be fun to smooth out later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  He looked to Ironhide once more and was surprised by the softness he saw. The warrior’s normally calloused expression had dropped, instead replaced by an almost wistful look. Ratchet realized he was offering him a moment of trust, of vulnerability.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “I’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel young,” he murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Ratchet remained quiet, his processor turning over the information. Then, with a silent sigh, he clapped his hand on Ironhide’s shoulder, and the Nissan looked at him with a strange expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Wordlessly, Ratchet leaned back against his chair and nodded once to Ironhide. With the faintest of smiles the warrior dipped his helm, and they both turned to watch the antics of the youthful generation.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. lost 12.14.15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"im gonna try to upload these chronologically," i said. "shouldn't be too hard," i said. literally did not even check the dates on all of them before I started uploading. this is truly who i am</p><p>Anyways the prompt for this one came from one of those lists where you pick 10 characters and then get a list of prompts that pick random numbers and put the characters in different situations. For this one, the prompt was "6, 2, and 10 get lost."</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>  “Uh...oops.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “What--is that supposed to excuse you?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Look, I didn’t realize I had my scanners offline, I had forgotten to reboot the systems after they crashed for no reason whatsoever!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> they would.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Well what the frag is wrong with your own blasted scanners?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Mine are BROKEN!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “What the-</span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “You know, I’d love to dig into you a little as well, Starsurge, but wouldn’t you think this situation just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> more bearable if we weren’t standing in the middle of a dusty plain? The granules are agitating my plating, and I’d like to keep my recently-waxed wings as they are, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The Lamborghini whipped around to glare at the blue Corvette as Starsurge threw her servos up in lieu of coiling them around one of the necks of her companions. Exasperation hung sharp on her thoughts like icicles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Tracks, your wings are fine. No, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot</span>
  </em>
  <span> get out of aforementioned ‘dusty plain’, and that would be because </span>
  <em>
    <span>there isn’t anything else around</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she ground out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  The blue mech swept an arm up and around fluidly, optics lifting to the sky. “There’s always above, but seeing as how I’m the only one here who can fly, there’s really no point; you’d both be permanently lost within a minute of my absence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “I can get us out of this easily,” Sunstreaker snarled at him. “You and your fragging wings can’t do slag for us, and Starsurge’s crashed systems aren’t any help, either, so why don’t you just leave it to the pro? My finish is recent and I’d like to not have to redo it. Again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Starsurge growled, a low resonation in her vocal shaft. The two high-strung bots continued to bicker childishly back and forth. Why in Cybertron did she have to be assigned with </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the narcissists at once?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Cycling her vents thoroughly, she turned to stare into the horizon from whence they came--from whence she </span>
  <em>
    <span>believed</span>
  </em>
  <span> they came--as tacit pleads for calm flitted briefly through her processor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  The distortion of heat warped the near-blinding streaks of sunlight that were crossing her vision. The acute glare made it difficult to see more than a muddled buff-brown-and-dodger-blue smudge where the horizon lay; she averted her optics slightly to compensate for the harsh light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “So what now, then?” Sunstreaker snapped. Starsurge swiveled her gaze indifferently to meet his venomous glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “I haven’t the faintest, Sunshine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Tracks snorted as Sunstreaker bristled visibly, sputtering angrily, “I’m--do not--do NOT call me </span>
  <b>Sunshine</b>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Starsurge rolled her optics behind her visor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Well, we could radio someone-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “And let them know we're lost outside our own ship? Do you have any idea the amount of ridicule that would be waiting for us?” Tracks interjected, optics wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  The teal femme crossed her arms. “What other option do we have? Wander around until we run ourselves dry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Tracks shifted, his arms dropping to his sides. “I could mark our coordinates and take off. An aerial view might help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “We don’t have any radar, remember? That’s why we’re lost in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>first</span>
  </em>
  <span> place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  “Ah...right…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Sunstreaker, who had fallen glumly silent until this point, piped up with a sour, “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  Tracks glared at him and Starsurge gave a stressed groan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>  She needed to be paid for this.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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